


Free Unwanted Ugly Bread Bowl - Karkat X Reader X Gamzee

by karkittycat413



Category: Dead Kennedys, Homestuck
Genre: Karkat works at Panera AU, Love Triangles, M/M, Other, Slow Burn, lifelover, no posers allowed, punk/metal solidarity, started off as a crack fic but its no longer ironic, verbal abuse of a minimum wage worker
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-10
Updated: 2020-07-16
Packaged: 2021-03-05 05:35:13
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,945
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25179295
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/karkittycat413/pseuds/karkittycat413
Summary: Modern band au! You are in an Lifelover-Dead Kennedys fusion band with your best friend, Gamzee. But one day at Panera, you meet a special new boy that will change your life forever. Who do you choose? The laid back Gamzee, or the high strung but caring Karkat? And why are they staring at each other like that?
Relationships: Gamzee Makara/Karkat Vantas, Gamzee Makara/Reader, Karkat Vantas/Reader
Kudos: 10





	1. Us and Them-Higher Power

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> its me spleen. you may remember me, from the infamous reigen arataka dip addiction fic. ive hacked into teefs account to give myself credit as a co author. and also to post this fic which was once a wattpad exclusive. but no one was reading it on wattpad. and i am an attention whore.

It’s almost 1 pm, and you’re starting to get hungry. If you don’t get food soon, you’re going to be late for practice at your Dead Kennedy’s Lifelover fusion band. Looking to your left, you see a Panera. 

Your stomach grumbles as you open the door and walk inside. The smell of bread overwhelms you as you breathe in deeply, savoring the scent. Your [INSERT YOUR EYE COLOR] orbs flit from menu option to menu option as you ponder your order. Bread bowl? Normal bowl? You turn your gaze downwards to inquire the caloric content of the barbeque chicken flatbread when you see... him. A shapely young man, eating the buttons on the cash register he was working. Sweat rolled down his visibly frustrated brow as a key got stuck in his gums. The most striking thing about him, aside from his jaundice inducing sclera, was his iron skin, graey [A/N authors could not agree on correct spelling of graey] as storm clouds above a field in kansas experiencing a storm, and under that field a cult of graey clad cultists worship the great Trog. You also notice the candy corn-like horns adorning the top of his head like a stupid ass crown worn by some bitch baby tricker treater on halloween, forced to go as a stupid fucking candy corn by their stupid fucking bullshit wifebeater deadbeat parents for the fifth fucking year in a row god fucking damn it. [A/N Sorry I got distracted for a second] You inquisitively stare at the strangely colored man [A/N I did not say this in a racist way I was simply implying that it is strange to see a graey person not that I am saying that if you have gray skin you are weird, all lives matter.], he looks up and meets your eyes.

“Woah, what the hell?” you say, taken aback.

“WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU JUST SAY TO ME. YOU LITTLE SHIT. I’LL HAVE YOU-” woah. Holy shit. What’s this dude’s problem? You mean, he IS a stud and all, but dude needs to take a xanny [A/N I am NOT racist and I acknowledge the damage xanax has done to the black/rap community specifically, NOT THAT I AM IMPLYING THAT ONLY BLACK PEOPLE CAN RAP, HOWEVER rap music is a part of AFRICAN AMERICAN CULTURE and many rap artists die due to xanax abuse. this is obviously a tragedy and I do not mean to make light of this horrific addiction.] and chill the fuck out.

“Yo, what the fuck is going on with your melanin?” you whimper. “This is like, a step beyond cracker.”

“OH YOU LITTLE FUCKING SHIT, I’LL HOP OVER THIS COUNTER RIGHT FUCKING NOW IF YOU WANNA GO. WE WILL ‘GO’.”

He was halfway over the counter when the person behind you piped up. “Oh My God!” you hear a squeaky voice exclaim. Ugh. Another fucking prep. You wish you were at home listening to Rectal Smegma instead of this Fidlar-loving piece of shit airhead god I fucking hate fidlar fuck all surf rock artists. “Is that Karkat Vantas from the popular webcomic Homestuck written by Andrew Hussie, first published in 2009 and spanning seven years to its eventual conclusion in 2016? And its eventual non canonical epilogue sequel combo  _ Homestuck: Beyond Canon  _ that everyone hates? That Karkat Vantas?”

The man suddenly became flustered, and covered his face. “OH, IT'S SO NICE TO MEET A FAN,” he gushed, “I’M ASSUMING MY MASCULINE CHARMS DREW YOU IN,”

“Oh, absolutely not! Don’t get me wrong, I don’t actually like you because I think you’re a stupid fucking twink, I just like Homestuck! Can I get a picture with you?”

“SUCK AND GARGLE MY FAT FUCKING DICK AND BALLS.”

“Oh my god, [A/N I am sorry if you are a christian and my usage of the word god offended you however I and my coauthor are atheists therefore we will potentially be using the word god as a swear in this fic. If you are offended by the usage of this word please stop reading. Also you are a poser.] I have no idea what Homestuck even is you guys! Can I please just order?” 

“HOW ABOUT YOU SHUT THE FUCK UP-” 

You’ve had enough. You reach across the counter and grab the dumbass gray twink by his Panera uniform shirt collar. 

“Listen here, asshole. I am in a FUCKING hurry and you better get me a GOD DAMN [A/N Sorry again but I did tell you to stop reading earlier.] BROCCOLI CHEDDAR BREAD BOWL RIGHT FUCKING NOW BEFORE I GO BEZERK!” You stare intensely into his color non-disclosed orbs, taking note of every individual oversized pore and lopsided freckle on his dumb fucking cheeks. You could feel his hot, nervous breath exhale on your nose. It smelled like shit. He nervously averted his gaze and tried to pull away from you, in a manner very reminiscent of a man who gets pegged. [A/N NOT THAT I AM IMPLYING THAT GETTING PEGGED MAKES YOU GAY AND/OR SUBMISSIVE IF YOU ARE A MAN WHO GETS PEGGED ALL POWER TO YOU HOWVER IN THIS CONTEXT I AM IMPLYING THAT KARKAT IS A BOTTOM REGARDLESS OF THE GENDER OF THE TOP WHICH IS WHY I SAID HE GETS PEGGED.]

“OKAY, OKAY, JUST GET OFF ME ALREADY! SHEESH…” He blushes and rubs his cheeks awkwardly. “I’LL GET YOU YOUR FUCKING BREAD BOWL”

You let him go and cross your arms smugly, feeling a rush at how embarrassed you made the man. You attempt to swipe your card at the register.

“HEY WAIT, DO YOU HAVE A CHIP?”

“I don’t want any chips with my meal, dumbass. If I wanted chips, I would have fucking said so.”

“I MEAN THE CHIP ON YOUR CARD. DOES YOUR CARD HAVE A CHIP.”

“Why would my card have a chip on it?” You ask smugly. “Are you stupid or something?”

“A CHIP IS SOMETHING ON RECENT CREDIT CARDS THAT CAN BE INSERTED INTO A MACHINE RATHER THAN SWIPING YOUR CARD. IT IS A MORE SECURE METHOD OF PAYMENT.”

“And what does this ‘chip’ look like, Mr. I know everything about credit cards?”

“THE YELLOW SYMBOL ON THE END OF YOUR CARD, INTERCROSSED WITH LINES, IS THE CHIP. AGAIN, IT IS A MORE SECURE METHOD OF PAYMENT, SO I DON’T SEE WHY YOU WOULDN’T WANT TO USE IT.”

“Why would I care about the security of my payment? Aren’t credit cards pretty secure anyways?”

“WELL ACTUALLY,  OUT OF THE THREE MILLION CASES REPORTED IN 2016 IN THE FTC CREDIT CARD FRAUD STATISTICS DATABASE, 42% WERE FRAUD RELATED AND 13% WERE IDENTITY THEFT CASES. CONSUMERS FILED FEDERAL TRADE COMMISSION COMPLAINTS, AND THE INCIDENTS WOUND UP COSTING $744 MILLION IN FRAUD COMPLAINTS IN 2016.”

“Oh wow, well, thank you for telling me. I will be sure to use my chip from now on. How do I go about using this chip?”

“SIMPLY INSERT THE CHIP INTO THE CHIP READER ON THE REGISTER.”

“Insert? Isn’t that, you know, somewhat sexual?”

“THERE IS NOTHING SEXUAL ABOUT CREDIT CARD FRAUD.”

You insert your card into the chip reader, and your payment processes. You moan. Karkat stares at you for a second before handing you the red buzzer thing they give you at Panera.

You stand in front of the order counter, where another graey personl with homosexual looking [A/N I am not homophobic, I am simply implying that the haircut of this person appears to be that of a homosexual. Not that anything in particular makes haircuts look gay. I am sorry.] purple and black hair. He also has candy corn-like horns, although these are longer than Karkat’s and shaped like lightning bolts. Small world, huh? You take the broccoli cheddar bread bowl in your hands before you realize your mistake. You meant to order carry out! Oh no, how will you ever make it to practice on time like this! You walk with swag towards the counter that Karkat stands behind.

“Hey numbnuts. I wanted this shit in a to-go box. Put this in a to go box for me, shithead. I’m going to miss my Lifelover-Dead Kennedys fusion band practice otherwise, so. I’ll talk to your manager if you don’t, bitchboy.”

“OH SHIT, YOU’RE IN A DEAD KENNEDY’S COVER BAND?”

“No, dipshit, Dead Kennedys-LIFELOVER fusion band. Get it fucking right. We play both of their songs at once. It’s pretty sick.”

“I’VE NEVER HEARD OF LIFELOVER BEFORE-”

“Is it my problem that you’re a fucking poser? Get off my dick and get me a fucking to go box already.”

He grabs a to go box for you and puts your order inside it. 

“HEY ACTUALLY I HATE MY FUCKING JOB, CAN I COME TO YOUR BAND PRACTICE WITH YOU?”

You scoff, even though this dude has probably only ever listened to MTV Get Off the Air, you might as well take him to practice with you. Never too late to unposerfy a poser, you guess. Plus he can personally explain to your bandmates why you’re so fucking late! “Fine, come with me poser.”

“HEY CONDESCE, YOU STUPID FUCKING DUMBASS FISH BITCH SUCK MY DICK YOU FISH LOOKING ASSHOLE, YOU SMELL LIKE FISH TOO CLOSE YOUR FUCKING LEGS JEGUS CHRIST [A/N SORRY FOR THE BLASPHEMY] I QUIT! NEVER CONTACT ME AGAIN AND GARGLE MY BALLS.”

Together, you head to your car. “Hey, to be totally honest I’m driving on a suspended license right now so I’m not actually supposed to be on the road. There are a lot of cops on the way to band practice, so you’re going to have to drive, fuckface. I’ll give you instructions.”

As you scream instructions at Karkat on the way to practice, god damn he just keeps fucking up the fucking directions you hate him, you slam on your car stereo to ease your mind. Out comes Jello Biafra’s beautiful, melodic voice.

_ YOU’RE TOO DRUNK TO FUCK-TOO DRUNK,TO FUCK IT’S ALL I NEED RIGHT NOW BABY, I’M MELTING LIKE AN ICE CREAM BAR BABY, AND NOW I’VE GOT DIARREAH! TOO DRUNK TO FUCK! _

Finally, after what feels like a fucking HOUR of Karkat’s shitty ass driving, you arrive at practice. You bang on the door of the house, hoping someone will hear you and let you in. Just as you’re about to bring your fist down again, the door opens. You accidentally punch Gamzee Makara in the face.

His corpse paint smears onto your sweaty fist. “wOaH tHeRe, BrO,” he groaned, “wOuLdN’T WaNt tO DaMaGe tHe MerChanDiSe” He was wearing a plain black shirt with the album Konkurs by Lifelover displayed proudly across the chest. God. What a solid fucking album. His hair was as unwashed as ever. Something about his dandruff-plagued hair made you-

No. You couldn’t fall for your best friend. Not like this. You and Gamzee had known each other since that fateful day in the fifth grade when you both beat up the same Slipknot-loving poser. Since then, you had been inseparable, always boofing off the same bong or sharing tastes of his sopor slime pie. You couldn’t risk all that for a stupid little crush.

You tried to hide your blush as best as you could, but the fact that your hand had touched his face was driving you insane. His oily skin...your soft flesh..“ I! Uh! Gamzee! Sorry for being late! I-  _ Someone- _ held me up.”

Both of your gazes fall onto Karkat at the same time. He shrinks into himself. “...HEY...GAMZEE, HUH…” 

Gamzee glares at the smaller man. “yO, lIkE, y/n, WhO tHe HelL iS tHiS,” he growls.

You cross your arms. “I met this dumb fucking whore at Panera. He held me up because he was, like, horny for the card machine chip reader or something.” Pretending you don’t give a shit about credit card security doesn’t feel good, but you’ll do what it takes so that Gamzee doesn’t think you’re a poser.

Gamzee snorts, not unlike if one was doing a fat line of coke. Not that you would know, though. “HmM. SmeLlS lIkE a FuCkInG pOsEr To Me,” he drawls.

Suddenly Karkat shoots straight up. “I’M NOT A POSER YOU FUCKING SHITSACK!” he stomps over the door and sticks his index finger straight into the taller man’s lanky chest. “I’LL HAVE YOU KNOW I OWN ALL FOUR DEAD KENNEDY’S STUDIO ALBUMS ON VINYL AS WELL AS THE LIVE AT THE DEAF CLUB RECORDING RELEASED IN TWO THOUSAND AND FOUR!” [A/N X3 this is like, my favorite album ever! The Holiday in Cambodia Live Version is just so much better than the studio recording, just watch for that racial slur in both versions <3] [A/N I am the other author and I just want to express that I don’t share this opinion.]

“mAn, CaRinG aBoUt MaTeRiaL PosSeSionS Is LikE, So NoT PunK,” Gamzee snarled, “iF yOu WeRE AcTuAllY PuNk YoU WouLd FoCus On ComMunItY OrGanIzInG anD DiReCt ActIoN.”

Karkat bristled. The two locked gazes and you could feel the palpable tension between them. 

You were starting to regret bringing this stupid fucking poser dumbass idiot to band practice. “We need to practice, you guys can fistfight or whatever the fuck afterwards.” You push past Gamzee and go inside.

“pSh, WhAtEvEr.” Gamzee snarked, “jUsT sTaY oUt Of My WaY, pOsEr.”

Man. these two really don’t get along. The way they stared at each other too...why did it irritate you so much? No. Whatever. You brush off that intrusive thought and head through Gamzee’s mom’s house towards the garage, where your microphone is waiting.


	2. I Love (To Hurt) You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> scott pilgrim band practice time! except everyone in this fic could beat scott pilgrim to death and it wouldn't even be close.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey anyone know what the name of the chapter means? I fucking don't teef wrote those.
> 
> also sorry for the fucked up line spacing i think things should be single spaced and teef thinks things should be double spaced. we hate each other. teef if you're reading this im gonna k*ll you im sending you my toe in the mail.
> 
> A/N hey it's teef that's the name of a lifelover song i hope you get hit by a semi truck

You entered Gamzee’s mom’s garage only to be greeted with the smell of chalk dust and a loud crunching noise.

“Yo, Tz, ThAt WaS tHe LaSt Of My MoMs ChAlK! nOt. CoOl. DuDeS.”

“FUCK TH4T, WH3R3 TH3 H3LL H4S Y/N? W3 F1N1SH3D S3TT1NG UP H4LF 4N HOUR 4GO.”

“-and who is that embarrassingly short-statured twink at your side?”

Karkat bristled next to you. “HEY CHUCKLEFUCK, I’LL HAVE YOU KNOW I GREW TWO INCHES OVER THE LAST-”

“Shut up, manlet,” you say, heading over to the rest of the group. “Sorry guys. This little whore thought he could fuck up my Panera order.”

Terezi bit into another piece of chalk. She was sitting cross-legged on the floor. The dust from the chalk was staining her black Mindless Self Indulgence limited edition t-shirt. It pained you to see her wearing merch for such a poser band, but that was your friend, and the best guitar player you could actually convince to join your sextet. [A/N Haha sex P.S. sorry for the stupid sounding word we said band too much.]

The other guitar player was sitting on a table above her, calmly chatting with Rose. She was wearing a tattered Jack Off Jill shirt and fishnet stockings, and her matted black hair covered a good portion of her face. Aradia scared you a little, but she was the only other good guitar player you could convince to join. 

Rose was sitting cross legged on the chair. [A/N Period.] Just sitting. Fuck. Today she was wearing a black corset with matching lace around it and a black leather miniskirt, pink fishnets and black combat boots. She was wearing black lipstick, white foundation, black eyeliner and red eyeshadow.

“Interesting,” Rose postulated. “He wouldn’t happen to be, you know…”

“A poser?” you ejaculate. “Well…” You swallow. _Was_ he a poser? You glance at him. He did like Dead Kennedys, but if both Gamzee AND Rose thought he was a poser… “He might be, but he said he liked Dead Kennedys and begged on his hands and knees like a little bitchboy to come with me. I got tired of his stupid idiot dumbass grovelling so I told him he could… We can always kick him out-”

“No,” Rose remarked, “I think he could be useful to us. You never know when we may need another member.”

You think about this incredibly potent foreshadowing. Surely nothing would happen to your fellow members, right? That would be a really stupid way for the authors to incorporate Karkat into the story.

“ShUt ThE fUcK uP, wE nEeD tO pRaCtIcE.” Gamzee came angrily.

He was right, you guys WERE already pretty late…You walked up to the mic stand, gargling salt water in preparation for the melancholic screams of Lifelover and the angry shouting of Dead Kennedys.

Gamzee clicked his drumsticks together in the morse code pattern for penis, a staple of practice since the band had been formed. You took a deep breath and leaned into the mic.

“WE ARE DEAD KENNEDYS LIFELOVER FUSION BAND AND WE’RE HERE TO MAKE YOUR BALLS POP RIGHT OUT THEIR FUCKING SOCKETS!”

The garage exploded into a cacophony of noise. Rose let out a high pitched wail as you shouted the lyrics to Buzzbomb from Pasadena into the mic:

**_*in a grandma voice*_ **

**_Buzzbomb buzzbomb macho-mobile_ **

**_The road's my slave, that's how I feel_ **

**_I cruise alone, I cruise real far_ **

**_Shoo young punk! I love my car_ **

**_Cross Nevada at a 110_ **

**_Highway 50 and there's nobody there_ **

**_Sign says, 'Next sign thirty miles!_ **

Even with the mic, you could barely hear your own singing over the clashing of your bandmates’ instruments. Terezi was cranking out the riff to Buzzbomb, while Aradia was busy playing the parts for Cancertid. Gamzee had to be snorting crack or something, because even after years of playing with him you could never figure out how he managed to drum both songs at once.

Rose got in close to the mic.

**_Försöker att reflektera_ **

**_över de förlorade timmarna_ **

**_Men de saknar mening_ **

**_Finns verkligheten här_ **

**_Eller i mitt våldtagna sinne?_ **

Rose had learned Swedish just so she could get the pronunciations correct for her parts. God damn. She and Gamzee were truly the backbone of your band.

The song faded out, and everyone in the garage felt electric after the incredible performance you all just put on. We were definitely ready for that show on Saturday. Karkat clapped awkwardly from the sofa by the garage door.

Suddenly, Rose’s phone pinged.

“Sorry, it would appear as if I have to go. You can continue practicing without me if you wish, but this is urgent.” She rushed out, leaving her bass behind.

This was unlike her… Rose always took her bass with her when practice ended. Something had to be really wrong to make her so forgetful.

“W3 C4N’T R34LLY CONT1NU3 PR4CT1C3 W1THOUT H3R THOUGH…” Terezi sighed.

“Oh WeLl, ShIt HaPpEnS. wE’rE rEaDy FoR tHaT sHoW aNyWaYs, So We CaN jUsT hAnG iF yOu GuYs WaNt.” Gamzee panted. 

“I guess…” You tried not to show it, but you were concerned about Rose and what it meant for your band. She’d come back, right? She had never ditched on you guys like this before. You sighed and flopped down on a beanbag.

“I. UH.” Karkat was standing in the corner of the garage, fidgeting. His hair had blown back from the sheer velocity of your sick riffs, and you could see the entirety of his acne covered forehead. Gross.

“LiKe, SpIt It OuT yOu FuCkInG bOtToM,” Gamzee snorted. You felt the breath get knocked out of your lungs as Gamzee accidentally pile drove directly into your titties in an attempt to jump on to the beanbag next to you.

“GAMZEE!” you choked, gasping for air. He tilted his head back and started cackling. Fucking whore. You socked him in the head, which only made him laugh harder. Ugh. You massaged your bruised pec and glared at Karkat, since he really was turning into your emotional punching bag nowadays.

“Karkat you fucking whore, this is all your fault, I-”

“SHUT THE FUCK UP FOR A SECOND. WHAT I WAS GOING TO SAY IS… I CAN PLAY BASS.”

“OH SH1T! NO W4Y!”

“YEAH WAY… [A/N NOT YAHWEH, YEAH WAY. SORRY FOR ANY CONFUSION. AGAIN, THIS FIC IS STRICTLY ATHEIST.] I LEARNED HOW TO IN HIGH SCHOOL SO I COULD BE PART OF A GREEN DAY COVER BAND… I-”

“ShUt ThE fUcK Up, PoSeR. oH mY gOd.”

“M4N, WH4T’S WRONG W1TH GR33N D4Y?”

You all chose to ignore her poser comment.

“A- ANYWAYS, I CAN PLAY BASS… SO… IF YOU W- WANT TO KEEP PRACTICING…” Karkat blushed.

“MoThErFuCk, WhY nOt. It’S nOt LiKe I’m DyInG oVeR hErE fRoM tRyInG tO dRuM tWo DiFfErEnT sOnGs At OnCe.”

“GR3AT! L3T’S G3T PL4Y1NG TH3N!”

Everyone got ready to play again. Gamzee looked like he was about to pass out. Everyone was in position, except for…

Karkat was standing over Rose’s bass, a nervous look in his eyes. He reached out for it, but his hand jerked back at the last second. 

“what are y0u fucking waiting f0r”

“I. ARE YOU SURE IT’S OKAY. LIKE SHE WOULDN’T BE MAD OR ANYTHIN-”

“MoThErFuCkEr, JuSt PiCk Up ThE fUcKiNg BaSs AlReAdY, iM gOiNg To FuCkInG dIe If I hAvE tO wAiT hErE aNy LoNgEr.”

Karkat blushed and rushed to pick it up. Why was he acting so weird, just because Gamzee told him to do something? Fucking whore. 

“ALRIGHT, ALRIGHT, GEEZ.” He did the white person half-jog over to the mic where you were standing. “SO. JUST THE SAME SONG AGAIN, RIGHT?”

“Right. Anyways.” You cleared your throat and tried to think of a clever introduction line for this round.

“Uh, WE ARE DEAD KENNEDYS-LIFELOVER FUSION BAND AND WE’RE HERE TO FUCK SOME SNAIL TITTIES [A/N snitties] AND DIE!”

It just didn’t feel right… Whatever. You swished some salt water in your mouth before the song began, spitting it all over the floor in front of Karkat.

Gamzee tapped out penis and the song began to blare. Again, the sheer noise of the combined songs nearly made your eardrums burst. It was metal as hell. Everything was fine until it was Karkat’s turn to sing.

“aAAAAEE~” 

Everyone stopped.

“...dUdE.”

“W- WHAT?” Karkat blushed.

“WhAt ThE eVeRlOvInG fUcK. wAs ThAt.”

“A BLACK METAL SCREAM, DUMBASS!”

“Oh my fucking god. Please tell me Rose is coming back-”

My phone buzzed in my pocket. It was a text from Rose. Shit.

“Apologies, [y/n]. It appears that, due to... extenuating circumstances, I will not be able to perform at the show on Saturday.”

Fuck.

“God DAMN IT!” you yelled. Karkat took a few steps back, surprised.

“UH. IS EVERYTHING. OKAY.”

“No, everything’s NOT fucking okay, because Rose has to deal with some undisclosed BULLSHIT that’s keeping her from performing with us and our replacement vocalist can’t black metal scream to save his LIFE!”

“W41T. ROS3 C4N’T M4K3 1T?”

“BuLlShIt. HoW aRe We SuPpPoSeD tO pLaY oUr SeT wItH tHiS fUcKiNg PoSeR aS oUr VoCaLiSt.”

“I’M NOT A FUCKING- LISTEN. WHY DON’T YOU GUYS JUST, TEACH ME HOW TO BLACK METAL SCREAM.

“MaN… i’M tHe OnLy MoThErFuCkEr WhO kNoWs HoW tO bLaCk MeTaL sCrEaM, aReN’t I.”

“Sorry man, it’s up to you…” As bad as you feel for Gamzee, you’re glad you don't have to teach this assclown how to do black metal vocals.

For once in his life, he didn’t immediately speak. Instead, he leveled a tired glare at Karkat, who crumpled a little under his gaze. He seemed to be assessing the situation, which seemed strange for him because you thought he lost all his cognitive brain function from sopor slime abuse years before.

“...fInE.” He finally said. Karkat sighed, but was cut off. “-BuT! jUsT fOr SaTuRdAyS sHoW. i’M nOt GeTtInG iNtO aNy MoThErFuCkInG lOnG tErM cOmMiTmEnTs WiTh A pOsEr LiKe YoU.”

“I UNDERSTAND.” Karkat avoided making eye contact. Fucking bottom. “UH. THANKS.”

“DoN't MoThErFuCkInG mEnTiOn It. SeRiOuSlY, dOnT. mAkEs Me KiNdA sIcK tO tHiNk I’m WoRkInG wItH a LoSeR lIkE yOu.”

With that, Gamzee got up from his drum set. His shirt was covered in sweat and sopor slime stains. 

“WeLl, I'm GoNnA gO hIt ThE bOnG aNd FuCkInG cRaSh. No OnE hMu.” 

“WAIT! WHEN ARE WE GONNA MEET. FOR VOCALS PRACTICE.” 

“FiGuRe It OuT, mOtHeRfUcKeR.” Before Karkat could open his mouth again, he’d already slammed the door to his mom’s house behind him.

“...SHIT. FINE.” he huffed.

“Well, I’m out too, then.” You said. Aradia was already gone, even though you didn’t actually see her leave. You never did. She was kinda quirky that way. 

“HEY, WAIT!” Karkat yelled as you were opening the door.

“God. What the fuck do you want now.” 

“WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU MEAN WHAT DO I WANT. YOU’RE KIND OF MY RIDE, DUMBASS.”

Oh. God damn it. It was enough that you had to bring him here, now you had to bring him _back?_ You were about to tell him to just walk when you caught his eye. God, he was so pathetic looking with his round-ass orbs and gross baby-fat soft cheeks and the way his wiry black hair that he _really_ needed to brush fell just over his eyebrows. Kid wouldn’t survive a minute walking home at night. Even though you were in the suburbs. He was just that pathetic. Like a baby. Gross.

“...Fine." You sighed, "Come on, it’s getting late.”

For a second you thought you saw his eyes light up a little, though he quickly stifled it. He followed you to the car wordlessly.

You plopped down in the driver’s seat this time, hoping it was dark enough that any officer wouldn’t recognize you for your seven outstanding DUI warrants. Karkat buckled up, like a pussy.

“Back to the Panera, right?” you said, starting the car.

“UM. ACTUALLY. I DON’T ACTUALLY HAVE A CAR. OR A LICENSE. I JUST. BUM RIDES. FROM ERIDAN. OR SOMETIMES THE CONDESCE EVEN THOUGH SHE’S KIND OF A HUGE BITCH.”

You were about to make fun of him for never learning how to drive (seriously, what kind of loser doesn’t even have a _license?_ [A/N: me.]) when you realized something. 

“Wait- whore, you DROVE us here!” you shouted.

“UH. YEAH. YOU KIND OF WERE SUPER INTIMIDATING. SO I JUST DECIDED TO GO WITH IT. AND LET GOD GUIDE MY PATH. OR WHATEVER.”

You just stared at him. 

“...Anyways. Where do you need me to go, then?”

He gave you his address and you started the silent drive over to his neighborhood. It wasn’t that far out of the way, but with how expensive gas prices were lately, and the recession…

The suburbs thinned out and gave way to forest. Did this dude live in the sticks or something? 

  
  


The road lead to a fucking dirt path. This dude. This fucking dude. Redneck fuck lived in the middle of nowhere. Trying to get your dumb ass killed and shit. It was an incline too. Fucker.

The trees cleared up a little, leaving room for the full moon to shine down on the rural path. It was utterly quiet, save for the sound of your motor and Karkat’s loud ass mouth breathing. Was he...staring at you? You were trying your best to focus on the rocky ass road in front of you, but you could feel his weird yellow eyes boring into you all the same. 

You opened your mouth, ready to snap at this weird little creep, but closed it just as quickly. Fuck. You were too tired for this. All the same, you felt awkward just sitting in silence while he was maybe or maybe not watching you.

“...So, are you a hick or something?” Yes. This is how normal, polite conversation started.

“A HICK? ARE YOU CALLING ME A SLUR.”

“What? No, like, someone that lives really isolated in the woods or on a farm and stuff. A hick. Are you one?”

“OH. I GUESS I POSSESS SOME OF THOSE QUALITIES. NOT THE FARM QUALITY. I AM SOMEWHAT ISOLATED, YES.”

“You’re not one of those Ted Kaczynski types, are you? Gonna send me a package bomb?” you chuckled. He didn’t. You guess your humor was just too sophisticated for the average male.

“WHY WOULD I DO THAT.” He sounded genuinely confused. “DO YOU THINK I’M GOING TO MAKE AN ATTEMPT ON YOUR LIFE.”

“Jesus, no. It was a joke. You know, the anprim guy? Ted?”

“WHAT’S AN PRIM.”

“You’re killing me here man. Theodore J. Kaczynski? The fucking Unabomber?”

“NOW YOU’RE JUST FUCKING WITH ME.”

“You seriously don’t know who he is? What the fuck were they teaching you in his-”

“FUCK. TURN IN HERE. MY HOUSE IS A FEW HUNDRED FEET UP.” You narrowly avoided driving straight off the fucking edge of the god damn mountain Karkat lived on.

Oh. And to think you were getting so excited to launch into an impassioned rant slash lecture about the philosophy of the Unabomber and his effect on leftist culture. Whatever. It’s not like you even _wanted_ to talk to Karkat, of all people. No, he didn’t deserve to know the effects of the Industrial Revolution and its consequences, you thought as you pulled up to his house. It was small and shabby, but at the same time probably something those “cottagecore” bitches on instagram would go crazy over. In any case, you couldn’t get much of a look at it in the pitch dark of the woods.

Karkat reached for the door handle, then paused. He looked like he was trying to ask you something, and failing miserably.

“What is it.”

“UH. CAN YOU GIVE ME GAMZEE’S NUMBER. SO I CAN TALK TO HIM ABOUT VOCAL PRACTICE.”

Was that fucking all? He was acting like it was a confession of his love for him, or something. 

“Yeah. Give me your phone.”

He handed it over. Android. Of course. Then again, anyone with an iPhone was immediately a poser. So that was good, you guessed.

You were about to hand it back when he opened his mouth again.

“UH.” Jesus, he looked like he was sweating buckets. What’s up with this guy? “COULD YOU. COULD I HAVE. COULD I HAVE YOUR NUMBER AS WELL.”

Oh. Fine, you guess. Didn’t know why he was so worked up over it, wasn’t like you two literally just met today or anything. “As friends, right?” you joked. You liked being jokey that way. You forced a chuckle to make sure he knew you were joking. Because it was a joke and you’re really funny.

“UH! YEAH!” He said, obviously startled. “AS FRIENDS. OBVIOUSLY. STRICTLY PLATONIC NUMBER EXCHANGE.”

God, this guy was weird. Oh well, you guess you just had that effect on people. The effect of people missing your funny jokes. Not like, a romantic effect or anything. You’re not a slut. You punched in your number as well and handed it back to him. “Here. See ya.”

“YEAH. UH. BYE.” He shuffled awkwardly out of the car, stealing one last glance at you before shutting the door. 

You felt weird. You started driving. You had to ignore this. You had to ignore it, but it was eating at you. You felt different. You felt like...

Like you didn’t completely, absolutely, totally fucking hate Karkat anymore.

God, what was happening to you?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> dont tell teef i said this but tbh sometimes i will listen to msi, and sometimes i will enjoy it,
> 
> hey teef here, die?


	3. Ill in the Head

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> bong

It was Wednesday. Three days before the fucking show, and it was time for Karkat’s vocal lesson. Honestly, you wouldn’t be surprised if Gamzee ended up kicking his shit in. You wouldn’t exactly consider them friends.

As for you, you hoped your sudden… tolerance for Karkat’s existence was a fleeting emotion brought on from the excitement of party rocking. But you couldn't be sure.

You pulled into the driveway of his shitty Kaczynski shack, pressing on your horn repeatedly. He ran outside angrily, slamming the car door behind him.

“YOU FUCKER! YOU’RE DISTURBING THE WILDLIFE AND SHIT!!”

Yep, you definitely still hated him. “Since when have you cared about wildlife, pussyboy?”

“I’VE ALWAYS CARED ABOUT WILDLIFE WHORE, WE HAVE TO PRESERVE NATURE AND SHIT!”

“And you said you didn’t know who Ted Kaczynski was?”

“I LOOKED INTO IT ACTUALLY… HE SEEMS COOL.”

“So the fucking Unabomber is your celebrity crush now?” God. Karkat was going to pipe bomb you one day if you kept hanging around him. 

“YOU’RE THE ONE WHO WANTED ME TO RESEARCH HIM!”

“The fuck, no I didn’t! I was just surprised you didn’t know who he was!”

Karkat mumbled something angrily and crossed his arms, falling back into the seat.

“Whatever. Anyways, we have to go to my house because Gamzee’s mom has guests over and she doesn’t want them to be ‘disturbed’ by our ‘satanic screaming’.” You rolled your eyes. Fucking prep…

“OH, THAT’S FINE I GUESS.”

You hummed in agreement. Karkat femboyishly tapped his fingers against his thighs, annoying the everloving fuck out of you.

“Man, what the fuck. Why are you so nervous?”

“I JUST. I DON’T KNOW JACK SHIT ABOUT BLACK METAL VOCALS! I’M NOT GOING TO BE GOOD AT THEM!”

“You had time to research Ted Kaczynski but not black metal vocals?”

“I GOT CAUGHT UP IN IT, LEAVE ME ALONE.”

“Black metal vocals aren’t like… hard, I guess? When you get used to them? I don’t do them because Rose was always better at them than me, but it shouldn’t be that bad. You’ll get the hang of it.”

“I GUESS SO, I JUST…” He sighed.

“Man, what the fuck is it now.”

“GAMZEE IS KIND OF INTIMIDATING! LIKE, I FEEL LIKE IF I FUCK UP HE’S GONNA SKIN ME ALIVE!”

You noticed Karkat’s hair was neater than it had been yesterday, like he’d made an effort to look presentable so he could impress Gamzee or some shit. Weirdo. “Man, he’s not that bad. But no promises. We’re here!” You started the ascent to your apartment with Karkat following right behind you.

You put the key in the lock, opening the door. Immediately, you noticed that your window had been shoved open, and your blinds dumped in an unceremonious pile on the floor. Fucks sake.

“DUDE, YOUR HOUSE GOT BROKEN INTO!” Karkat grabbed your arm, trying to keep you from entering. “WAIT! DON’T GO IN, DUMBASS, THE GUY COULD STILL BE HERE!”

“Oh, he’s here alright,” You said, pointing your thumb to the figure tangled up in your window curtains.

There sat Gamzee, eating what seemed to be cold spaghetti from a plastic bag.

“For the last fucking time, stop climbing in here. I gave you a key.” You stomped over to him angrily.

“HOLD THE FUCK UP, HOW DID HE GET IN HERE! YOU LIVE ON LIKE THE SEVENTH FUCKING FLOOR!”

“I cLiMbEd, ObViOuSlY.”

Well, that was a thorough enough explanation for you! 

“You fucks have fun, I’m gonna get my game on.” You walked over to your Wii, inserting Guitar Hero Three: Legends of Rock.

“WHAT THE FUCK, YOU’RE NOT GOING TO HELP?”

“FUCK no, I’m not listening to your shitty vocal attempts. Gamzee can deal with that.”

“FUCKING-”

Gamzee grabbed him by his shirt collar and dragged him into the kitchen directly behind your gaming couch. Great, you just wanted to game, but they’d be ruining your epic Guitar Hero Three: Legends of Rock experience from your peripheral vision.

You sat down, taking a moment to glance at the pair before turning to your TV.

“s0 what s0ng are we playing” 

“WHA-” you jumped. Aradia was sitting next to you on the couch, guitar hero controller in hand. You only had one controller. And you had locked the door behind you. “What the fuck?”

“d0nt w0rry ab0ut it what are we playing th0ugh”

“I…” you turned your gaze back to your television screen. “...Holiday in Cambodia?”

“0bvi0usly”

The song began. You were shredding your god damn heart out, hitting every fucking note like you were its daddy dom, when suddenly..

“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA…” 

Karkat’s FUCKING shrieking interrupted your performance, causing you to miss a note and ending your streak. That. Mother. FUCKER. He was going to pay for this one…

You threw down your controller and stomped angrily into the kitchen. Aradia kept playing, completely unfazed. 

“Karkat, you dumb fucking whore. You ruined my FUCKING Holiday in Cambodia performance, whore. I was about to get a new high score, whore! What the fuck is wrong with you, whore? Are black metal vocals really that god damn hard, whore?”

“wOaH mAn… LiKe, CaLm DoWn… LaY oFf Of HiM…” Gamzee jumped off the counter where he was sitting and stumbled over to you.

“What the fuck? You’re defending his poser ass?!”

“He’S nOt A pOsEr! WhY aRe YoU bEiNg So MeAn To HiM? :o(“ He threw his arm around Karkat and tugged him closer to him, in some kind of weird protective-bro gesture. God, why Karkat of all people? It pissed you off even more, though you didn’t know why.

“I don’t care if he’s a poser! He’s short, and he’s dumb, and he literally just showed up a day ago so I don’t know why you’re so buddy-buddy with him-”

“MaN, wHaT's YoUr PrObLeM lAtElY? YoU'rE bEiNg A hUgE bItCh To EvErYoNe, FoR , lIkE, nO rEaSoN. cHiLl OuT.”

You stopped, shocked from his words. Were you really being that bad? Gamzee was your childhood friend. He knew you better than anyone, and if he was asking you to calm down…

You dropped your gaze to the floor. “I… I’m… I’m gonna go get pizza. I’ll be back.”

As you were stepping out of the door, you caught a glimpse of the TV screen. Aradia had finished with a perfect score. Jesus.

“WAIT, I WANT PEPPERONI ON MY P-”

The door slammed shut behind you. 

You kept the radio off on your drive to Fazbear’s Pizza. As sweet the sounds of Rectal Smegma were, you needed a moment to think.

The more you thought about it, the more it became clear to you that you weren’t JUST angry about how loudly Karkat was screeching. Something about the way they had grown so close already just set something off in you. And Gamzee’s touchiness...sure, he was a hugger, but why did it only piss you off when-

Oh. Oh shit.

You groaned and hit your head on the steering wheel, nearly veering into a Prius in the process. This couldn’t be happening. There was no way. You could not be turning into a whiny, jealous bitch all of the sudden.

But towards who… you weren’t sure.

Really, as ridiculous as it sounded… Karkat had grown on you. Sure, he was a whiny, acne covered fuck… but it was kind of cute. You groaned at this realization.

Somehow, some way, Karkat had used his bottomly wiles to bitch and moan his way into your heart. You hated him. No. You hated that you didn’t hate him. God, this was so embarrassing. Not  _ Karkat _ . Not Karkat with his acne covered forehead, and ashy skin, and his jaundiced eyes that seemed to light up when he saw you play-

Fuck.

But at the same time...you couldn’t deny that you still liked Gamzee. Of course you did, years of pining wasn’t just going to disappear at the arrival of some whiny twink. Sure, Karkat was making your heart flutter now, but you’ve had years of friendship with Gamzee, years of shared bong rips, years of staying up late, writing riffs for shitty new songs, years of sleeping over at each other’s houses, years of you staring at his messy black hair as he slept beside you...

Fuck. You were so invested in your new turbulent love life that you nearly slammed your car into the front entrance of the pizzeria. You decided to just leave it there.

You walked in, approaching the counter.. The employee had their back to you.

“Hey, could I get-”

“0h man y0u scared me” Aradia jumped, putting her phone into a pocket on her pizza apron. “my bad th0ugh what d0 y0u want”

“I- uh.” God, that never stopped being weird. Anyways. “Can I get a large half anchovy half cheese pizza.” Wait. You needed to stop being a massive bitch. “Actually, make that half anchovy half pepperoni.”

“c0ming right up” Aradia headed into the back.

With nothing better to do, you decided to observe the pizzeria lobby. It seemed like there was some formal event going on in there. Weird.

“y0 shit im back heres y0ur pizza” Aradia tripped over the ledge leading up to the counter, falling over the barrier between you. She tossed the pizza in the air.

The pizza still managed to land in your hands. 

“Oh my god! Aradia, are you okay?!”

“yeah im g00d” 

You looked closer. She seemed to be levitating about an inch off the floor.

“Thanks. Uh. Thanks for the pizza.”

She remained silent. You left without another word.

When you got back to your apartment, Aradia was sitting there on your couch. Not that you were surprised.

“Man, you got back here fast, huh?”

“what”

“You were just at the pizza place.”

“the fuck are y0u talking ab0ut anyways shut the fuck up im gaming”

Weird. You walked into the kitchen, setting the pizza on the counter. Gamzee and Karkat were standing around awkwardly. They seemed… apprehensive about your arrival. Had you really fucked up that bad?

“Guys, I just wanted to say… I’m sorry about how I acted earlier. I’ll work hard to change, starting right here, right now.”

They glanced towards each other, an unsure look on their faces. Your heart pounded in your chest. God, they were staring at each other for a while now, huh?

Finally they looked back at you. “...It’S cOoL, dUde.” Gamzee shrugged.

“Great… I got anchovy-”

“FuCk. YeS.”

Gamzee seemed to forget every word of what had just gone down, tearing open the pizza box and individually devouring each and every anchovy. He insisted it was better that way.

“HEY, YOU ACTUALLY GOT PEPPERONI… THANKS.” Karkat smiled at you.

“Oh, no problem…” You quickly dropped your head, hoping he couldn’t see the blush. What was happening to you? “Do you guys want to, like, watch a movie or something?” You asked, hoping to get past the awkwardness of the moment.

“SOUNDS GOOD.” Karkat headed towards the couch.

“m0therfucker i am gaming” 

“Could you take a break so we can watch something?”

“suck and gargle my c0ck and balls actually”

“WE COULD WATCH HER PLAY GUITAR HERO.”

“fUcK yEs, GuItAr HeRo. LoVe ThAt GaMe.”

You all made room on the couch, watching Aradia shred through notes like Ethan Lee McCarhy, frontman and guitarist of Primitive Man. The light from the television screen lit up the otherwise dark room around you, casting everything in flashes of blue and purple. Gamzee plopped down next to you, and Karkat sat beside him. You glanced over at both of them, your heart skipping a beat. Fuck, you were turning into a mushy bitch now that you couldn’t hide behind needless agression. You couldn’t help it, the way Karkat’s hair was all messed up was so-

Wait. When had his hair gotten messed up? Up to the moment you stormed out his hair was definitely still combed, and you remember pretty clearly seeing as your eyes were locked on both of them in seething jealousy and or rage. Come to think of it, the rest of him was pretty disheveled, looking too. Was his shirt...inside out? How hard had they been practicing in the 20 minutes you were gone? Huh. You figured he was really starting to get into the black metal spirit, then. Good for him. You were about to make a jab at him for it when you noticed.

Gamzee’s hand was resting on Karkat’s thigh. 

No. You gasped and quickly turned away. Thankfully, the sound of Aradia’s sick riffs drowned out any other noise, and Gamzee was probably too stoned to notice anyways. How could you be such an idiot? You felt your face heat up in embarrassment. Of course they chose each other instead of you. You lashed out at everyone around you in your jealousy, and now you were paying the price. To them, you were probably just a catty, jealous bitch who no one really wanted around. You felt a lump grow in your throat. You couldn’t cry. Not here. You couldn’t make a scene, God knows you’ve already caused too many today. 

Aradia shredded through a sick fucking rift before jumping up from the couch excitedly.

“fuck yes guess wh0 just beat guitar her0 three legends 0f r0ck”

“hElL yEs, ThAt’S sIcK aS fUcK. tAkE a CeLeBrAtOrY bOnG rIp.”

That was Gamzee’s prized bong… his most valuable possession… and he was offering a hit to Aradia. When was the last time you’d even taken a rip off of it, much less been asked to? A tear spilled from your eye, despite your best efforts to stop it.

Aradia took a deep inhale, still riding the high of her victory. It didn’t help your mental situation that she’d taken a day to beat the game you’d been playing for years. You didn’t think she’d ever even played Guitar Hero before.

“WhOoP wHoOp MoThErFuCkEr!” Gamzee and Aradia high fived.

“wh00p fucking wh00p br0”

That was it. That did it. Tears were falling freely down your face now. You tried feebly to hide your miserable face in your hands.

“WHOA Y/N, ARE YOU OKAY?”

“I’m fine- I just, I need to get out of here…”

“WaIt, Y/n, WhErE tHe FuCk ArE yOu GoInG-”

You ran out the door, tears running down your cheeks. You didn’t have time to consider where you’d go. You just knew you needed to get out of there.

You ran to the staircase, not having enough time to take the elevator. Three floors down, you had to take a break to catch your breath.

“Y/N, WHERE ARE YOU? COME BACK, IT’S FINE!”

Karkat… he couldn’t see you like this. You ran down the stairs despite your exhaustion. You were really starting to regret rejecting Rose’s offer to join that running club a few months back.

Finally, you’d made it to the parking lot, panting hard. God. You needed to go to the fucking gym. You sat on the curb, collecting your thoughts.

It took all of two seconds before you realized you’d just ran out of your own fucking apartment. You imagined walking back in there, all their eyes locking on you in confusion and amusement. You couldn’t. You would have to find somewhere else to sleep tonight.

You stuck your hands in your pocket to grab your car keys, but you’d left them inside on the way out. Looks like you’d have to walk to the nearest hotel. Your heart sunk as you realized you’d also forgotten your fucking wallet. Could things get any more embarrassing for you? No wonder neither of them liked you back.

You started down the cold city streets, heart heavy. You could try to stay at Rose’s or Sollux’s place but...if none of your other bandmates wanted you, why would they? They’d probably just shut the door in your face. You sighed. You were already getting tired. It was getting late. You looked to your right. A dark alley, littered with trash and various other objects. It called to you. You stepped in, no longer caring if it was safe or not. Why bother? You slid down to the dirty floor, back against the wall. This was your life now. 

You knew it wasn’t that easy though. There was no way you could sleep in this cold. You looked around, desperate for anything to cover yourself with. There. At the corner of the alley, a discarded cardboard box lay on its side. It would have to do. You crawled inside and curled up, and prayed no passers-by could hear your muffled sobbing.

  
  



End file.
